Song For You
by rachel.24.107
Summary: One of the boys has a mysterious daughter. Through trials and hardships, Schidt, Jess, Nick, and his daughter find out what really matters and how to cope with misfortune. What brings them together? And what will ultimately take them apart?
1. Losing Our Yesterdays

She wakes up every morning to the sound of her phone alarm. She was never scolded for waking up late.

She was never scolded for a lot of things. She showered regularly, did her homework on time, ate relatively well, went to bed at decent hours, and never threw a fit when she didn't get her way.

Of course she's not perfect. She waited until the very last minute to start her homework. She never seemed able to get rid of her sweet tooth. She'd go to her bedroom at night, but stay up reading or watching television. And even when she was upset, stressed, overwhelmed, or downright raged, she kept her thoughts and feelings to herself.

She never really thought about it until things started to change within the household.

She grew up without parents. Never knowing a father and bearing the loss of her mother since she was two years old.

Her mother's parents, Peggy and Ronald, known to her as Gram and Papa, are raising her in her mom's childhood home in the suburbs.

When she was little, she used to think it was magical. As if somehow her mother would bring her luck through the day. But as she hit her teen years she began to see that sleeping in the exact same bed as her mom did ten years ago was not magical at all.

She kept the bedroom the same way it had been since her mom left the room. Keeping old pictures hung and ragged stuffed bunnies on the shelves. The only items she added were her clothes, a television, and little nick knacks that Papa gives. The most prized item that she has is a picture of her mom. Taken on her eighteenth birthday, the same year she passed away. Her mom looked so happy and carefree, sitting across a white, decorated cake resting peacefully on the dining room table where most likely all of her other cakes had sat before her. Her smile beams as if she had the whole world in the palm of her hand; she could do anything, become anyone. She had her whole life ahead of her.

She kisses that photo every night before bed, often telling her mom the notable events that had happened in her day. She spoke aloud. Or whispered for fear that she might wake her grandparents, but mostly because she feared that they would worry over her talking to an inanimate object. She knew it wasn't her mother; she wasn't crazy or anything. She just liked having someone to share with, and liked the idea that her mom always cared about her day.

She's heard her mom be referred to as a hussy or heathen, mostly by Gram's friends. She knew why though. Her mom had sex at sixteen and got pregnant. By some guy that didn't care to stick around.

At least that's what she thinks. Gram and Papa never spoke of him, and she learned early on not to ask many questions on the matter. She assumes that her dad knocked up her mom then fled the scene. It hasn't been confirmed, but she doesn't see any other explanation.

Tonight she's reading a novel, Heart of The Matter, by Emily Giffin. It's an easy read about a father who "accidentally" has an affair, if ever an affair could be accidental. But she reads. She likes the complexity of the characters and how the author shows both sides to the event so that you truly can't decide what is right and what is wrong. Though she knows that adultery is wrong when you get down to it.

She likes reading occasionally, but she's not a bookworm of any sorts. She watches more television and more movies than she thought humanly possible.

She is a fan of all genres except western and historical fiction, especially historical SyFi. Abraham Lincoln is a vampire hunter? Seriously?

She's a big fan of Chris Farley and John Candy. In her mind the list of her favorite movies is never ending. From romantic comedies to classics to SyFi to action to cheesy horror movies to silent films.

However, with all this time watching a tv screen or reading or doing homework, she still makes time for a social life. If you can consider helping Gram host a tea with her elderly pals a social life.

It's not as if she hasn't tried. She just keeps mostly to herself. She also doesn't take part in the current fads, but that doesn't mean she thinks she's better than anyone. It just means she knows that whatever it is, it won't last long.

This is kind of her motto for life. When she's struggling in school, she'll be done in a few years. When she can't seem to bear the mundane routine of her home life, she knows at some point she will move out and move on with her life.

She doesn't get attached to many things in life.

Not to say that he isn't happy with the way things are at home. No, its not an exciting life. She never had a slumber party or a boyfriend, and all her birthday parties guests were either 50 years her elder or a relative of sorts. However, she's more than happy that her grandparents cared enough about her to keep her as a baby.

She is a happy girl. Though she is reserved from others and doesn't allow herself to hope for things, she still laughs. A lot. She is silly and with a good sense of humor. She doesn't let strangers see her true colors, in case they don't understand. And she doesn't let strangers become friends until she feels completely at ease around the other. That being said, she wasn't the most popular girl in school.

But what does she care, it's high school. Generally, if you're crazy popular in high school, you fail at the rest of your life. Just like Regina George. Anyway, after some tough years she ended up schooling herself at home. The books were sent to her house and Gram helped her out when she could.

Although her circumstances leave her many reasons to want to stay in bed all day, she doesn't mope. She makes the most of the days she has. These are the days she should cherish. These days with her grandparents, when things are easy.

Her grandparents were old when her mom was young. Gram had her first and only baby in her later years. It's kind of a miracle that she is still able to handle daily life as well as she does. Gram doesn't move very fast, neither does Papa. And their hands shake when they hold things, which is sometimes dangerous. They don't remember things like they used to, often calling her by the name of her mother. But she can deal with it. She fixes them their meals and leaves them their medicine on the kitchen table on two separate napkins. She does most of the housework herself, too. Papa gardens, and Gram dusts. The rest is up to her. But what's a little sweeping and cleaning hurt anyways.

She's only sixteen, herself. If anything happened to either of her grandparents, she wouldn't know what to do. She couldn't stay in the house anymore, or live on her own. She would be lost. She doesn't have a job, any source of income. She doesn't drive either, only Papa. She relies on her grandparents. And she loves them more than anything in the world.

Which brings us to **Tuesday**:

She woke up to sound of an annoying ring from her cell phone underneath her pillow. She shuts off her alarm, puts on her robe and checks the mirror. After tossing her hair into a messy bun, she heads into the kitchen to start cooking some eggs for Gram and Papa.

Soon after, she hears the opening of the door to the other bedroom. "Hey, Honey, what do you got for us today?" Gram says as she heads toward the door to pick up the morning paper.

"Just your average eggs, scrambled with bits of hot dog in it, sound good?" she replied.

"Sounds great, dear." Gram opens the door and bends down, attempting to grab the paper and keep the door open at the same time.

The next think she knows, she hears a gasp. She turns to the door just as it slams shut, making her even more startled. She rushes outside seeing her poor grandmother laying helplessly on the ground. Blood is seeping onto the concrete.

She runs in the house to get Papa and the phone to dial 911.

After minutes that seemed like hours, the ambulance finally arrived and led the three of them to the hospital. Papa held Gram's hand the entire way. Never taking his worried eyes off of her.

When they got in, a nurse gave her papers to fill out, seeing as though Papa was in no condition to be dealing with people at the time. She put as much information as she knew down on the sheet and turned it back in, sitting down next to Papa trying to comfort him a bit. She tried to hold his arm and tell him how strong Gram is. How she has always been a fighter. But he can't hear her. He only hears his thoughts and fears. She can see it on his face.

She checks her phone for the time every three or four seconds, hoping that at any moment a doctor will come to tell them something, anything.

After more time has passed, a doctor does come out. He introduces himself but she doesn't care enough to hear it, she only needs to know how her grandma is doing. The doctor goes through all his procedures and all the medical talk when finally her grandpa speaks up, "Just tell me. Is she going to be okay?"

The doctor looks down again at her chart and an expression crossed his face. One she caught only briefly before composing himself again. She may have imagined it, but she would swear she saw a look of grief. "I'm so sorry."

The doctor continues on, but neither of them hears as she and Papa grasp each other and start to cry. She knew that the day was bound to come around eventually. But it was supposed to be "eventually". Not today. Not now. Not when they both needed her so much.

**Wednesday:**

Back at home Papa makes the preparations. He makes the calls and carries out the items Gram listed on her will. He calls all their friends and every surviving family member willing to make a visit. Everything is set in order to take place on Friday.

She thought Friday was a bit soon, but Papa said, "The sooner to move on, the better. You know Peggy wouldn't want us dragging this thing out. She'd say we're just torturing ourselves." Which is true. Gram always wanted things to be done concise. She chops a chicken in half. She doesn't like loose ends or unanswered questions, just clearly cut down the middle.

**Thursday:**

She woke up with tears crusted on her face and her eyes feeling puffy. She never cried so much in her life. Not when Skippy, her dog, ran away. Not when her hamster Yip died. Not after an extremely tolling day at school. Not that any of that compares to the loss of one of the only people she holds dear to her.

Early that afternoon, Papa walks into her room as she folds her laundry and tells her that he needs to have a talk with her. "I'm glad to see your not laying around. You're actually tidying up." she nods to him in response and pats her bed as she sits down, offering him to take a seat as well. "Well, darlin', there's no use in prolonging this."

She can't think straight to begin with. Her mind is clouded with loss and feeling of desperation. She takes a deep breath and tries to prepare for what he may be leading to. "You know how much your grandma loved you, right?"

"Yes, of course."

"And you know how much I love you, don't you?"

She takes another deep breath. She can't see how this could turn into anything good. She nods.

"Well, now that Peggy isn't here, I don't know how we'd manage."

"What? What are you tal-," she can't finish her sentence, her thoughts, or her breaths.

"I've called your dad." She looks up in utter confusion. She hadn't known that anyone knew who her father was; let alone how to contact him. As far as she knew, he was dead too. She opens her mouth to speak but decides against it. "He'll be picking you up Friday once the ordeal is done with. You'll be living with him now in California. He'll be at the funeral and meet you sometime afterward."

"I can't stay for the wake?" she asks, one of the many questions that are circling through her brain. This one seems to be the easiest to articulate.

"No, and personally, I don't want you around for all that. This is too scarring for you to begin with."

She wants to laugh at that comment. She wants to cry. She wants to scream. And she want to rip one the heads off of one these dumb bunnies. "I can handle it. We can handle it. We can manage, Papa!" He shakes his head no as he lowers his eyes to the floor. In almost a whisper she begs, "Please don't do this to me."

She never asked for many things. She asked for a pink bike when she was seven. She asked to keep a vase of flowers in her room and she asked to be home-schooled. She asked if they could take her to space to eat ice cream on the moon. Of course it was too much to ask, but the next night Papa came home with freeze dried ice cream and Gram turned out the lights and lit candles to act like the stars.

She knows this is too much to ask as well. There's no way that Papa would go back on what he said. There's no way she could stay.

Papa rises from the bed. He offers to bring in some boxes for her to pack up anything she wants. Anything. The only thing she really wants is the only thing she can't pack into a box. A new life.

By evening she has most of her things stored away. She didn't have much. Shirts, skirts, pants, and dresses to be smashed in two small boxes. The picture of her mom. The picture of the her mom holding her as an infant in the hospital with Gram and Papa smiling proudly. Some old jewelry and makeup. One of Gram's brooches that she has loved since she was a small girl. And all the small items that were meaningless to others but held sentimental value to her. Things like an old pin from when Papa was on a baseball league ages ago. Picture frames that held no pictures. Old letters and sweet cards she held onto through the years. She packed it all away and put it in the living room.

She sits on the old tattered couch, thinking of how she wished for a new life earlier today. And now realizing that that is probably the only thing she will actually get. She'll have a flaky, new dad, a new house, a new state. A brand new life.

TBC

**A/N: The title of the story is the title of Alexi Murdoch's song, Song For You. I encourage everyone to listen to it. If you don't like it, look up the lyrics. It's a good song and goes along with the overall feel of the story and the main character. The song was, however, not what the story is based upon. **  
**BTW: her name will be announced next chapter, along with the father's.**


	2. 1 Last Goodbye and 1 First Hello

But today, she couldn't function in basic movement. Her alarm sounded beneath her pillow. After turning the volume off, she just lay there. Eyes fully open to a bright, new day. Her mind was numb. No thoughts entered or exited. She eventually rolled to one side and shoved the blanket off of her, in the hopes to gain inertia to remove herself from the bed. She sat up.

She looked out the window and noted how nice the weather looked. Somehow, this only made her feel worse. As if Gram deserved to have a dark, rainy, sad day. But that was unlike Gram. She always had a positive outlook. She was a bright person. So in a way the day, the weather, had been just for Gram, to honor her.

She looks over to see the dress lying over a chair in the corner. She must start her day. She cannot stay in a slump. This man, her father, she feels the need to impress him. She owes him nothing, he left her. However, she feels this need to show him that she has done fine without a father. She hadn't needed him then and she doesn't now.

After showering and freshening up, she goes back to the dress. A beautiful, lace lays over the lower end below a casual belt that accentuates her hourglass figure. She feels the texture between her fingers. She bought this with Gram. She swore that there was no need for a dress of this sort, but Gram insisted, saying that she looked gorgeous in it. Classy too.

The dress made her feel more sophisticated, like she had a purpose. It gave her confidence. As she zips the dress up the side, she hopes that she can still find confidence for today. To be able to face her family and loved ones and even a perfect stranger.

She forms loose curls in her chestnut hair, pulling the hair away from her face with a small, black bow clip. Gram liked to see her hair away from her face. She said it brought out her natural beauty and good bone structure. She put on a small amount of eye shadow and eye liner before finishing with a touch of mascara. She knows she should've gone to the store to buy waterproof mascara, but there was honestly no time.

She walks out of her room leaving nothing and everything behind. She'll be back for the boxes before she leaves for good, but in her mind this is where she says goodbye.

As she made her way to the main door, she noticed Papa sitting in his chair, his eyes fixed on a small item that he cradles in both hands. She walks nearer to him and sees that he is holding Gram's wedding ring. She places a gentle hand on his shoulder and tells him that it's time to go.

His weary eyes meet hers as he says, "Wait, this. . . Should be yours." She can feel his hesitancy as he places the ring in her hands. She helps Papa out of his chair and wraps him in a hug.

"I'm so sorry, Papa. I love you so much. I don't know how I'll go on without you."

He lets her go but held onto her elbows. "You will go on just fine. Me and your grandma aren't the lively bunch we used to be, we were boring you anyhow. It'll be hard at first, for the both of us. But we'll get through. You are strong. And determined. You have a good head on your shoulders. You will come out on top, you always do."

The first tears of the day have started to fall. She swipes them away quickly, hoping not to have already ruined her makeup.

"I'm gonna call you, okay? Make sure you have that phone in a good spot. Once a week, I don't know if we should set a day or time; I'm not really sure what's going to be going on, but be ready." She gave a weak smile when he said it sounded like a plan, and they both were on their way out.

When they arrive, she glances over to find that another ceremony had already begun in the room next to theirs. She couldn't see much through the partially closed doors, but she did see the pictures much like they had set up for Gram. In this room were three boards of pictures retelling the life of a young boy who couldn't have been older than seven. Her heart goes out to his parents.

She makes her way in, arm-in-arm with Papa. They choose the second pew, near the center. She knows that there is bound to be something that she hasn't done yet or someone she should be chatting with. But she doesn't care about that thing or that one. She cares to be peacefully sitting with her grandpa, trying not to think of the events that will occur later in the evening.

After thirty or so minutes of people coming to say hello or give their condolences, a minister walks up to the stand. He begins with a prayer then an overview of what the bulletin says, and then he says that if anyone else would like come to speak that they should feel free.

Great Uncle Saul steps up to the stand and begins with her eulogy. Most of this she already knows. However, small details like her first job in a doughnut factory, the fact that she rode her bike everywhere. Little things that didn't really matter until you put them all together. As other people went up to speak, a common theme seemed to be her generosity. She once baked an entire house's worth of goodies for her local church after people began to back out. She was dedicated to the cause. She was an outstanding lady.

Papa stood up and read a poem for her. One that they had claimed long on when her mom was a child. It is Shakespeare's Sonnet CXVI:

Let me not to the marriage of true minds  
Admit impediments. Love is not love  
Which alters when it alteration finds,  
Or bends with the remover to remove:  
O no! it is an ever-fixed mark  
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;  
It is the star to every wandering bark,  
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.  
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks  
Within his bending sickle's compass come:  
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,  
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.  
If this be error and upon me proved,  
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.

She dabs a few straggling tears before making her way to where Papa just stood. She wrote out a letter to her grandma to read here, today.

"I want to start by thanking every one of you for coming out today. You would have made her a very happy gal." she angles the stand and microphone to better face Gram. It's now that she notices that masses of people filling up the pews. "My dearest Gram, there are no words I could say to fully encompass the amount of gratitude and love I have toward you. It's clear that you _really were_ loved by everyone. When I look back over the years, I find that there is no person more suitable to raise me up into the person I am. I certainly wouldn't be the same person without your influence and guidance. You kissed all my scrapes and band-aids. You held my hand over the crosswalk. You taught me how to read the alphabet, but of course you led me to begin reading books. You showed me how to coordinate outfits and make edible meals. You taught me how to comb my hair and the right way to tweeze my eyebrows. You showed me that it's not a weakness to cry every now and then. You showed me how to forgive people who aren't deserving. You taught me how to get through the hard times, and how to believe in myself. You taught me how to be a blessing. You showed me that not unlike myself, people don't say all that's going wrong in their life, and you showed me that I always have to give them the benefit of the doubt. You showed me that it's not always what you say or what you buy, but how you say it and in the manner you give it. You told me that over all else, family matters most. You showed me loyalty and trust and honesty and _hope_ when hope seemed unfathomable. Gram, you touched my life more than - more than you'll ever know."

Her eyes filled with tears and the temperature seemingly raised a good twenty degrees. In a rush she left the letter on the stand and found a path to the door. She runs out into the parking lot, unable to stop the stream of tears. She spots Papa's car and walks over. Hoping to maybe lay down in the backseat. But once she gets to it, she sees the indicator that the door is locked. She tries the handle anyway, and then tries it again. Disappointingly, she settles for the curb around the corner of the building. Here she lets everything loose. She doesn't care enough to hold anything back. Tears, thoughts, memories. They all flood to her in a heavy stream.

Some guy walks around the corner and sits down next to her. "Are you okay?"

"Hmm. . . Is she okay. That seems like a good question to ask right now. She's sitting on the curb. Of a funeral home. Balling her eyes out. But you know, you still just weren't sure."

"I'm sorry, okay? I heard you crying, I thought. I don't know what I thought."

"Well, I'm not. Okay, that is. And honesty I don't see how I could I be, on any level. . . . There is nothing okay about anything."

The guy sighs and says, "I can agree with you on that."

"Why, what's your deal?" she asks, starting to take in his features. He looks to be around seventeen. Sandy, blond hair. A couple freckles. She's surprised she doesn't recognize him; maybe she just never noticed him before.

"Did you see a little boy, laying in a box in room B?" He waits for her to nod then goes on to say, "That's my little brother, Cooper."

"Oh, wow. I'm so sorry!" she reaches for his hand. "At least you had him right? I never had siblings. Did you like him?"

He smirks. "Yeah, sometimes. We fought like cats and dogs. He always hid my wallet. Always! Just to drive me crazy. . . But he knew that I had his back."

"That's nice. You're a good brother."

"You know, once, it was the very first time we ever got BB guns. We were messing around in my room, shooting at the wall, totally having a blast. When we ran out of BB's, we looked at the wall. Hundreds of tiny holes. Everywhere." They chuckled a minute and turned to face each other better. "Our mom totally freaked out! She made us fill in the entire wall the next day and then repaint. It took forever!"

She laughs at his enthusiasm. But soon remembers why they are both here. How she had to flee from the room for fresh air.

"What's your story? Why are you here?"

She takes a breath to compose herself a little, though it did no good. As she began to speak of her grandma and the role she played in her life, her voice wavered. After a tear slipped down her cheek, her voice cracked and she decided to take a moment to clear her head. She looks at him and says, "I'm loading you down and I don't even know your name."

"Levi. And I don't mind, I think it's better to talk about it. Get it out there in the open. Instead of letting it fester inside."

"I'm Reagan. Nice to meet you." she extended her hand for an informal, formal handshake. "I want to agree with you, Levi, but I don't know. It's hard to talk about things like this."

He nods in agreement. As he stands up he offers her a hand to help her up as well. "We should probably head back inside."

"You're right." They begin back in silence until he opens the door. Quickly, she holds it back and says, "Hey, I'm sorry about earlier. Being so rude to you. I'm not a mean person, I swear."

"I get it. It's been a hard day on everyone." Once inside about to part she says to give his parents her condolences. He says alright and asks if he'll see her afterward.

She gives him a look of uncertainty and says, "Maybe, I doubt it though. My 'father' is taking me once this is over." She made sure to air quotes around the word father.

"Well, this might come off weird, but-" he pulled out a sheet of paper that she later identified as a bulletin from his brother's ceremony. He starts scribbling down his digits and hands it to her. "If you want. You don't have to do anything with it, but if you wanted to call or text me. That'd be. . . cool-ish." He winces as though he wishes he could have changed that word. But she smiles at him, enjoying the fact that, against all odds, she could smile today.

"Thanks, I may just."

When she finds her pew again, an oddly robust gentleman is behind the stand singing the words to a song that she has never heard and doesn't quite feel that it's suited for the mood. She pulls out her phone and puts in the numbers of Levi, putting it into a text message that says 'so you'll have mine :)' and clicks send. She puts the phone away in her purse and down by her feet. For reason number one, respect her grandmother. Reason number two, not be tempted to see if he replied. This is after all, a day for Gram.

After the large fellow heads back to his seat, the minister dismisses in a closing word of prayer before the procession line begins. Papa and I are the first outside after being the first to view Gram again. I give him a final hug and ask if he knows what her dad looks like. He tells her that he's not too sure, but he will find her. "You did great today, you made Gram proud." One last hug and a kiss on the cheek. "It's going to be okay."

She looks at him in disbelief but hopes with all her might that he be right.


End file.
